Z Halloween Hot Stuff ONESHOT
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: Penelope and Derek lay all their cards on the table at a Halloween party. ONESHOT


_I hope you all had a Happy Halloween! Here's a bit of Morgan/Garcia fun. Enjoy!_

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><p>"Hey, Hot Stuff," Penelope greeted her best friend.<p>

"Hey, Sweetness," Derek said from the other end of the phone. "We're at Quarter's."

"Quarter's?" Penelope asked. "What are you doing at Quarter's? We're supposed to be at Reid's Halloween shindig."

"No one else showed," Derek informed her.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked.

"No," Derek answered. "I got there, and no one else was there. I've already called Will and JJ to let them know."

"OK," Penelope said. "Emily and I are on our way. 'Bye."

"Hey!" Derek said.

"What?"

"Did you decide on a costume?"

"As a matter of fact…I did," she told him.

"And?" She could hear the grin in his voice.

"You'll have to wait and see," she answered with a laugh.

"No hints?" Derek said.

"Sure," she said in a teasing tone. "My ensemble includes a smile."

"Oooh," Derek said in a low voice. "You know how I love that smile."

His tone sent a shiver down her spine.

* * *

><p>The second she'd walked in, his sword had gone hard. And Derek Morgan wasn't talking about the one hanging from the leather strap at his waist. "Hey, Momma," he said as she walked up to him. "You look…smokin' hot."<p>

With a sexy grin, Penelope placed her hands on her bent knees, and then shook her ass back and forth. "Thank you," she said with a giggle and a shake of her blonde, shoulder length big curls, and then straightened.

"Wowza," Derek said, his eyes falling to the mole on her left, lower cheek. "You put the real Ms. Monroe to shame," he informed her. "And you _know _how I love Marilyn."

Penelope _did _know about Derek's preoccupation with the sultry blonde, and she'd b lying if she said it hadn't played part in her choice of costume. "I had no idea," she said coyly, her lashes batting full force. "So…I'm confused about _you_ though," she said with a frown. He looked damn sexy, that was for sure. But the sword wasn't the correct prop to go with his skintight blue spandex (which outlined his amazingly toned thighs, she couldn't help but notice) and his red cape. Not mention his silver helmet…with the wings protruding from the top. "Thor," she said. "God of thunder."

"_Chocolate _God of thunder," he corrected her.

"But…Thor doesn't have a sword," she informed him. "Thor has a hammer."

Derek refrained from pointing out that he was fully equipped to give her a good pounding. He'd deemed Penelope Garcia off limits the second he'd met her. He didn't like for his work to mingle with his social life. But keeping his best friend off limits was a difficult task, and he was beginning to wonder if holding her at arms length was a mistake. But if anything was going to happen with them…she'd have to be the one to make the first move. "But a sword is way more cool," he argued.

"Well…yeah," she agreed. "But…it doesn't complete the costume."

Derek shrugged with a smirk. "I've always been one to blaze my own trail."

* * *

><p>It was too much to take in. She was in her best friend's arms on the dance floor…held steadfast against the solid chest she'd dreamt of so many times. She'd imagined waking with her cheek resting on his warm flesh, dragging her fingers down his back as he pleasured her. The dreams had been fun at first…exhilarating.<p>

But she hated them now. They taunted her nightly, and every single one was a reminder that she was never going to feel him inside of her. He was content to keep her at arms length, flirt with her because no one else was there to fill the void. And she soaked it up…practically lived for her next exchange with him. For God's sake, she'd just bought new sheets last week because her others were threadbare from so many washings. How many wet dreams could a woman take before exploding, anyway?

Abruptly, she lifted a hand to her friend's chest and pushed him away. He looked down at her with questioning eyes. "We need to split up," she said huskily.

"Why?" he asked in confusion.

Penelope sighed. "Because your best friend isn't going home alone tonight, Derek," she told him.

"What do you—"

"I'm…past my boiling point," she said blushing furiously.

* * *

><p>Derek did <em>not <em>like where this was going. "You can't go home with some one you don't know," he scolded softly.

Her eyes narrowed. "It's not like it's something you never do," she said with a defiant lift of her chin.

He studied her face for a moment. "You aiming to be like me now?" he finally asked.

"No, but…" Her voice trailed off as she looked down, all trace of defiance gone.

"Penelope," he said, using his index finger to lift her chin. "Do you really want to go home with a stranger?"

Her eyes wandered around the room for a bit before meeting his. "No," she said as her boldness returned. "I want to go home with you."

If they hadn't already stopped moving on the dance floor, that would have brought Derek Morgan to a screeching halt. "Penelope, you don't know what—"

He never got to finish his sentence; Penelope lifted her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his, silencing him with her lips. He'd wanted this too long to resist. He wrapped his arms around her waist and parted his lips, his tongue darting forth to taste her. He groaned as her sweetness assaulted him—_sweetness_…he was going to call her that more often—her body melding with his. He could feel her soft breasts crushing against his chest; his hands tingled at the thought of stroking them. His hands dug into her waist when she wiggled her hips, her lower belly rubbing against his erection. This was _not _the best costume for that!

"Penelope," he said, pushing her away. When she refused to budge, he had to step back. "Penelope," he said more forcefully.

"_Please, _Derek," she begged. "You _want _me. I felt it."

"I'm not arguing with that," he said.

"Oh," she said in surprise, then sighed in relief. "Oh…good."

"Are you sure you want this, Baby Girl?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered without missing a beat.

"If we get back to my place, I'm telling you right now…I won't let you change your mind."

Penelope laughed throatily. "Hot stuff," she said as she stepped forward. "There's a supersized chocolate bar between those thighs of yours…with _my_ name written all over it. Trust me—I am _not _gonna change my mind."

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><p>Later that night, as Derek Morgan thrust inside of her with a single stroke, he sent up a silent prayer that Penelope Garcia was a woman of her word.<p>

***THE END***


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